Page 2 of The Need to Know

“What’s up?”

“Uh, Gush needed help with something.”

I rolled my eyes. “Oh, y’all talking again?”

“I mean… We ran into each other the other week. She just needed some stuff moved around her crib, that’s all.”

Clicking my tongue, I turned and glared at my phone where it lay on my coffee table. “Man, you been fuckin’ Gusher again.”

Cesar released his unique laugh, a cross between a snort and a cackle. “Chill, chill, it ain’t even like all’at.”

Cesar was just like me, but when it came to Gusher, she was the closest I’d seen to him having a steady fling. It was casual, but it wasn’t usually like him to hit the block more than once.

“You just make sure yo’ ass show up. I’m about to hop in the shower in a few. I got a meeting with Pops, and there’s only one way that needs to go.”

“Oh, you think it’s Chaining Day?” Cesar quipped.

Blowing out a breath, I lifted myself up. “That’s the only thing I need Friday.”

“Sheesh. I don’t know why he won’t just give you the keys to the kingdom. You’ve earned it.”

I squeezed my bar in my palms, damn near snapping it from the wall with my irritation. “I fucking made BLVCKJVCK.”

After my tenth pull-up, I came down on the floor and walked it off. BLVCKJVCK was the nightclub my father owned, where I mostly ran it as co-manager to his senior manager, and Cesar was our promoter, and partial co-manager. My father had the place in name, but BLVCKJVCK was all me, and Cesar.

Come Friday, July first, I’d be turning twenty-eight, and there was nothing I wanted more than for my pops to gift me ownership of BLVCKJVCK. He owned two other clubs, one in LA, and another down in Miami, both lucrative ventures for him to keep him afloat. BLVCKJVCK was located over thirty minutes away in Atlanta, the hub for young Black entertainment. His club out in LA, Escape, did great business, but BLVCKJVCK was probably his most popular project—because of me.

A few years ago in hip-hop, when New York rappers and Atlanta rappers were beefing, the whole ATL had become a no-fly zone for anyone affiliated with the state, and no club would entertain a New York rapper. Cease and I’d taken a risk, wanting to book our favorite New York emcee, and it wasn’t that we were disloyal, but we both agreed the feud was stupid.

Against warnings from my father, we booked an act, Cesar promoted the hell out of the event, resulting in a packed club. Even if folks were loyal to the city, the nosiest of people still came out to see if shit would pop off.

When word got out to the local rappers, they came through BLVCKJVCK. Crews ran deep into the club, but no weapon was pulled. Instead, the music was cut and a cypher emerged on stage, and the beef was ended by the end of the night. It was a great moment for hip-hop, but a historic moment for us. Shit like that put us on the map. It was then that I knew to always trust my gut, and to always consult Cesar, and vice versa.

If you came through Atlanta you had to hit up BLVCKJVCK. We had the best drinks, the best entertainers stopping by and performing, and all the who’s who of Atlanta and Georgia could often be seen making appearances. I had so many candid shots standing with the fucking Migos, some used to joke I was the fourth one.

I wasn’t even thirty, but I was already king. Or, I would be, if Pops would just ease up off the goddamn throne.

“Well, I don’t know about no owner positions, but I’m still wrapping the present for your birthday as we speak,” Cesar teased. “How you like Dymonds?”

Outside of a Rolex I’d received as a college graduation present from my pops, I didn’t get caught up in the flashy flare of jewelry too much. But I appreciated the effort from my boy. “Ice me out, king.”

Cesar chuckled. “Heard you.”

A glance at the clock on the wall in my dining room told me I had to go. “Listen, I’ll hit you later to tell you how things go. Make sure your ass is at the gym.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Cesar groaned before hanging up.

I put my cell on the charger and hopped in the shower. It wasn’t often my father invited me out to eat. I grew up here in Belmont. My parents’ crib was on the east side and I still got invited over for dinner frequently. To be asked out, just one-on-one with my pops, meant something. I just hoped it meant what I wanted: power.

After my shower I got dressed and made sure Sadé had food and water in her bowls, as well as treats in her treat dish. She was only four years old, and she had me wrapped around her paw since day one.

Down in the lobby I hit the concierge desk where security and management were.

I slapped the counter on my way by. “Ay, Deuce, do me a solid and change the lock on my door? Woke up to new ‘artwork’ on my wall.”

Deuce leaned back in his plush chair, grinning at me. “Better art than ya nuts.”

I cracked a smile. “Could be worse.”